


The Fall Scandal

by LionoftheSouth



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 12:39:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10854186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LionoftheSouth/pseuds/LionoftheSouth
Summary: Of course, all good actors stay in-character when on-location -- even late at night, when their on-screen nemesis is taking a walk.





	The Fall Scandal

The set lights were out, like they usually were at this time of night.

But of course it was never fully quiet.

With a whole village worth of staff on location, you could always count on ambling walking conversations, voices haranguing late-working adults in order, or set workers busily preparing for the next day's takes.

It had been hours since she was off the clock and her tutor had turned in and she had snuck out.

Of course it isn't technically sneaking when you are allowed to go for a walk, but to a girl who played Hermione Granger, it would always feel like sneaking, especially at Hogwarts.

Some times, when she couldn't sleep, she'd come out and practice lines on set. It calmed her nerves to have the scene alone where she would preform it for the camera.

Of course, the next day she'd fall asleep between takes, but Dan never minded her head on his shoulder, intentional or not.

  
But tonight it was relatively quiet as she walked between sets. She was outside and noticed some field lights to the east of the castle, so she turned west.

Of course she would never wander off so far as to be out of earshot and into danger, but the cool night air was all ready doing wonders for her nerves.

She sighed and let her eyes drift up to the stars.

The night was so black it was almost navy and her eyes caught a slight glare of moonlight on her skin.

The dewy grass made her pant legs slightly damp and her shoes slipped easily across the grass.

She could feel the dregs of summer in the air and every other moment, a calling reminder of fall.

"Oy, Granger, what are you doing?"

She started.

It was him. He was leaning down from a tree near the castle.

A warm wind toused her hair and she could smell the night.

"Hi, Tom--"

"How dare you speak my master's name," he was jumping down out of the tree, leering at her.

They had played this game before when he had caught her rehearsing lines at night. And now she looked at him as he approached, coming in to circle her, no doubt. Of course he had gotten taller than her, all the boys had.

But of course *he* just also had to be taller. She stiffened, deciding whether she wanted to play along.

"Scared little mudblood?" He jeered, backing her into the castle wall.

She drew her wand partially out of instinct. A part of her was caught up in their game and felt a twinge of real fear. She didn't know if it was the method acting or distant memories reigniting.

"I'd watch it Malfoy," she bit out, perhaps not as testily as she would for the camera, but now he would know she decided to play along.

He stepped in closer. It was closer than he had ever been during a scene. And she could smell his musky cologne and could see individual eye lashes.

Caught in his grey eyes, she didn't notice his hand close over her wand hand until it was too late. He shifted her hand away from his face and continued his hold on her wrist.

"Draco," she said softly, her breathing shallow.

Her back was against the cool, rough hewn stone wall. Her legs could feel the damp seeping up into the cloth of her jeans, and the cold night air danced a teasing path between them.

His warmth emanated into the air and stone and surrounded her, as he place his arms were on both sides of her shoulders.

"Hermione," he breathed.

He removed a hand from the wall and tucked a stray lock behind her ear, letting the back of his index finger trail down her cheek, to her jawline and then over the side of her next. When he got to her collar bone, his face was blocking out the world. She felt the sensation of warmer air in her lungs and his eyes were a galaxy.

  
She watched, frozen as his eyelids flickered slightly closer and he moved in.

Before the scene before her eyes had time to be anything other than surreal, her eyelids met, and his lips softly touched her own.

"Draco," she found herself involuntarily sighing.

He pressed the full length of his torso against her and after a moment, lifted her up slightly, positioning himself between her legs.

His breath wasn't hot, he felt like an extension of her. And the dark was so deep all she could see was his face and his shoulders and if she looked down, the way his trousers clung to his hips.

She let her hands wander up his chest and around to his back and then up his arms.

He was lavishing kisses into her mouth, letting their tounges intwine in a passionate haze.

"Hermione, I've wanted you since the train."

The way he was speaking to her was making her body trill unexpectedly. She had never playacted like this with anyone, off script, out of character, and as a heady cover or excuse for she didn't know what.

"Draco, you're a giant prat."

She grabbed his collar and pulled his lips more firmly against her own, letting her hands wander up his sides next to his skin.

"Little minx!" He cajoled affectionately as his hands slipped up the bare skin of her back.

"I want you," he whispered in her ear.

She let him touch her in increasingly intimate ways until she breathed out heavily, and stepped back.

"Leave your father," she said, as if she was telling him she needed him to take out the trash.

"They would kill my mother."

"It doesn't have to be in the open."

"I'm not a master legillimens, Hermione."

"Since when can't you learn something?"

He paused, "was that a compliment, Granger?"

"I believe it was," she said cooly, and then reiterated, "leave your father."

He closed his eyes and his brow wrinkled in confused mistrust and pain.

After a long moment, and without opening his eyes, he spoke, "how?"

She pressed her slightly swollen lips against his, peeling her back away from the castle and arching slightly against his taller form. The crisp air once again reminding them of the navy swath of stars and and their small place under a hallowed sky.

"Tomorrow we will get into a dueling math and be sent to mcgonogall's office. Then we will start a screaming row and you will demand to see the headmaster alone. I will insist I get an audience as well. She will refuse and then I will curse you in front of her. Of course with that provocation she will not be able to withhold our conflict and she will march us up to the gargoyle personally."

He was running his fingers over her intwined digits and a thumb across the bottom of her lips.

"Bloody brilliant. Only way this plan can go wrong is if we are caught tonight."

"Of course, I'll just pretend you're forcing me, and then incapacitate you and haul you off to the gargoyle myself."

"Foolproof," he said scathingly into her ear and her body tingled. "Just don't act like you enjoy this," he hissed and bit her ear. A dull electric orange glow of pain shot through her and became pleasure en route to her core. She hissed and her eyes shut, a moan escaping her lips on the second bite. He hands were back at her bum and the underside of her breasts.

"Draco," she crooned out, unthinkingly.

"Used to moaning my name?" He growled.

"Yes," she confessed softly, feeling a slight throb.

His breath hitched and he pressed his leg between hers, lifting her up again.

"God, you're mine."

  
***

"Well that's something you don't see every day!"

One of the twin's gleeful voice entered the blank stage of her consciousness.

She felt soft under her left side but her leg was asleep and her hip was aching.

It was bright. Her script was a rolled, wrinkled, damp mess under her elbow and she had no idea how long it had been since their last take and when they were likely to get pulled up for another.

People were laughing and the twins were fake crooning, true to their character's. it was how everyone knew to relate to each other.

"Just no pictures, Rupert will have a field day."

The voices were receding and she felt the hand around her waist give a slight squeeze and the head above hers whisper into her hair.

"Fuck Ronald. The Dramione shippers will have a field day."

"Not a bad day for team Feltson, either," he whispered back. She turned her head up and easily found his lips under his hood.

 


End file.
